A Game of Hearts: The Pieces
by boring the goose
Summary: I look to my wife, my daughters in her arms, my son at her hip, and I wish desperately that we weren't some Capitol-contrived imitation of a family. That we weren't pieces in their Games.


**A Game of Hearts: The Pieces**

_Description: AU I look to my wife, my daughters in her arms, my son at her hip, and I wish desperately that we weren't some Capitol-contrived imitation of a family. That we weren't pieces in their Games._

_Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are property of Suzanne Collins. I am just playing with them._

The Games were brutal this year. The entire spectacle took less than a week, and my tributes, two underfed thirteen year olds from the Seam, were dead in minutes. There is a simmering unrest in the Capitol at the haste at which the children were slaughtered, and the final Victor, a plain-looking seventeen year old girl from District 9, is nowhere close to compensating for the days that were lost in the blood-thirsty zeal of the new Head Gamemaker. As a Mentor I had the pleasure of meeting him personally and listening to him compare the murder in the arena to a carefully choreographed ballet. To say that I am thankful that he will soon be quietly eliminated by the President is a massive understatement. There are enough maniacs in the Capitol as it is. But even his death will not appease the masses. No, it is intimacy they want, and considering Finnick can hardly warm the bed of every Capitol denizen (at least, not in a timely manner), I know it will be provided through yet another intrusion into my life in District 12.

District 12. The only home I know and the last place I want the Capitol to see. Even twelve years after Katniss and I came home from our own Games (feigned lovers, double Victors, murderers and survivors both) the Capitol viewers are still entranced by our little routine. We've been the subject of countless T.V. specials, exclusive interviews, and documentaries. Each of these leaves Katniss in a stormy mood, for while she's learned to manage the camera, she hates pretending that this life we lead is of our own choosing. She hates that the only way for her to keep her family alive was to be in love with me. Because even now, years after we exchanged our silent vows in the arena to save each other at the price of our lovers' hearts, she still does not love me.

I am another matter entirely. During the first six months as Victors we stuck together like glue, and while she did it mainly to avoid the people she had betrayed in the arena (namely, Gale and the rest of the Hawthornes), I did it because she was incredible; she _is_ incredible. I made my apologies to Delly, I broke her heart, and then suddenly I found that Katniss Everdeen was breaking mine. It was just after we departed District 11 on the Victory tour that I realized I was in love with her. She had came into my room a little after midnight, wearing the most plain pair of pajamas the Capitol could provide.

_Katniss, what are you doing here?_

_ I can't sleep. I keep seeing that man getting shot. I keep seeing Rue getting stabbed, and Glimmer bloating up from tracker-jacker venom, and Cato whimpering at the base of the Cornucopia as muttations tear him to shreds..._

_ Shh...Katniss it's ok. The Games are over. We're ok._

_ But we're not. Peeta, I keep thinking of them. All of them, even the ones whose names I don't know or don't remember. They won't leave me alone. They're haunting me._

_ Katniss..._

_ And you...pretending to be a couple. I know I agreed to this, but it's hard. And you're wonderful, and part of me just wishes that I could love you, because then I could almost stand that I'm alive and they aren't. But I don't. I can't, because we're being forced together by the Capitol. I can't because I never intended to love anyone to begin with._

_ You don't have to love me, Katniss. After all we've been through, I can't ask that of you. Just stay with me._

At that point Katniss had hesitated a moment, her grey Seam eyes unfathomable in the lamplight. Her lips were set in her characteristic scowl and suddenly I wanted to kiss her, not because I was supposed to be in love with her, but because I was in love with her. Hesitantly, she sat down at the edge of my bed. I couldn't breathe, so overwhelming were my emotions.

_Of course._

I am packed to leave the Capitol the second the final interviews are over. Mentors are only required to stay through the last day of interviews, but often the Gamemakers try to rope the more popular ones into staying a few extra days to give their opinions on the Games, something I have avoided at all costs since my first year mentoring. I nearly make it onto the train when I am stopped by Plutarch Heavensbee, one of the senior Gamemakers. He's smiling widely, giddy at the prospect of his own promotion. His breath reeks of alcohol, and I want nothing more than to punch him in the nose (last time I missed his nose and gave him a black eye) for his idiocy. I am very close to doing so when he grabs me on the shoulder as if he is losing his balance, pulling my ear to his lips.

"Tell Katniss to expect camera crews in two days. Tell her that the kids will probably be filmed too, and to make sure they act appropriately. This is vital. You must appease the audience and President Snow, or else these Games will turn into a riot. There is everything to lose, do you understand?"

He allows me to stand up, and I nod slowly. I climb aboard the empty train, and in a few minutes I am headed home, back to my wife and my children. I am terrified of what is to come. What I thought would be a simple filler interview was apparently a crucial part of the keeping the aggravated Capitol citizens at ease. And now, for the first time, my children are being dragged into it.

It took five years to convince Katniss to have children, and even then it was not my words but President Snow's that pushed her over the edge. It was during the 79th Games, after our girl tribute was overtaken by the Career pack, and the President came down to give his personal condolences for the first District 12 tribute since Katniss and I to make it past the Cornucopia.

_It is such a shame to see such a beautiful life lost._

Katniss had been unable to speak, so I (like the pathetic, love-struck lapdog that I am) spoke for her.

_Alana will be sorely missed, Mr. President. I am well acquainted with her family._

_ Ah, then send them my condolences. It seems that District Twelve has been having a rough time since you two won your Games._

_ It seems—_

_ A shame really. To watch so many tributes come and go, so many deaths that could not be avoided. I think what Twelve really needs is a new shot at life, don't you think?_

_ I don't understand._

_ No._

Katniss, whose eyes had been locked on the screens where the Games continued to play out, was looking straight at Snow. Her eyes were full of fire, but it was not for our tribute.

_Oh, but Ms. Everdeen, excuse me, Mellark. It would be such a joy for us in the Capitol to see a baby come into the world, especially the baby of two of our most popular Victors._

_ That is not for the Capitol to decide._

_ I think you'll find it is. Unless, of course, you are willing to see your beloved sister go into the Games, and trust me when I say she won't last half as long as your tribute this year did._

_ What if I'm barren?_

_ We both know that isn't the case Mrs. Mellark. If you aren't expecting by the time of the Victory Tour, you _can_ expect to see little Primrose in the arena next year. That is all._

Katniss was holding our son Julian (named after her father) to her chest at the next Reaping. She burst into tears when the girl tribute's name was called—the seventeen year old daughter of the elementary school Principal. She sobbed for the rest of the ceremony, until she was quietly led to the bottom of the stage, where Prim waited for her. That was the first year that the President allowed for Katniss to stay in District 12 while I went to the Capitol with Haymitch to mentor. In the five years since, she has only mentored twice, her final time being two years ago, just after she found out she was pregnant with the twins.

That was the hardest year for Katniss. Not only was she pregnant throughout the events of the Games, but she'd been forced to mentor Posy, Gale's younger sister. Posy was small but clever, and obviously had learned a thing or two about hunting from her older brother. She made it all the way into the final six when the male tribute from District 4 beheaded her. When Finnick came to District 12 for the Victory Tour, Katniss could barely look him in the eye. She knew it wasn't his fault that Posy was dead, but she hated him for it just the same. She hated Finnick just like she hated me for marrying her, for fathering her children, when really all she wanted was to be alone (but of course, that has never been an option).

The train ride back to District 12 is always shorter than the train ride to the Capitol, and in no time I'm at the train station. The families of the two tributes wait at the sidelines, as does Haymitch and other miscellaneous officials of District 12. Katniss isn't there, but I don't expect her to be. On a day as beautiful as this one, she is probably out in the woods teaching Julian to hunt, or playing in the meadow with the twins, or drinking tea on the front porch with Prim and her mother. After the year Posy died in the arena, Katniss refuses to go near the train station. She will not come face to face with the family of a fallen tribute after coming home to face Hazelle and her sons.

Looking into the blank eyes of the families, I can hardly blame her.

I fumble through the speech I've prepared, too nervous about the upcoming interview to deliver the words with my usual ease. I need to warn Katniss, to give her time to prepare. More than that, though, I need to see my kids. I need to hold Isabelle and Aria, I need to play with Julian's hair (Katniss' hair, but she doesn't like to take it out of her braid).I need to feel something real before the Capitol infiltrates my world once more. I need my family. I am about to head towards Victor's Village when a drunken arm throws itself across my shoulders. I don't even need to look to know it's Haymitch, because who else in this crowd would touch me so casually, with such familiarity?

His words are slurred, but it is quite clear that he is sober, for once. "Let's take a walk, Wonderboy. Have a little heart to heart before you have to go home to the Misses."

I don't even think to protest. There is a warning in his words, and I cannot afford to ignore it. We leave the station together, making a wide circle around the Merchant Quarter. We walk for a good ten minutes before Haymitch says anything. I do my best to hide my anxiety, but as we pass the florist for the third time, I can't hold it in any longer.

"What have you heard?"

Many heads turn at my outburst, then quickly look away. Victors in 12 are always set apart by our money and our connection with the Capitol, but in the weeks following the Games, we are pariahs. Haymitch sighs, and picks up his pace, giving me no choice but to follow. We've changed direction slightly, heading out of the Merchant Quarter and towards the high school. As we pass the slag heap (an infamous structure, if my brothers are to be believed) Haymitch finally speaks.

"The Games didn't go well this year for Snow."

I roll my eyes. "That much is obvious. But why is it so important that we give an interview afterwards? And what does Plutarch Heavensbee have to do with all of this?"

We keep a steady pace, slow enough that we could walk for another hour if we needed to. "You have to give an interview because Snow wants to show the rest of the Districts that he still controls you."

"Of course he controls us. He controls everything."

Haymitch shakes his head. "He didn't always. If you remember carefully, you weren't supposed to win. It was supposed to be you or Katniss in the end, and given that you declared your love first, you were supposed to sacrifice yourself for her. But you didn't."

Of course I didn't, because at the time I _didn't_ love her. I was ready to kill her that day, when Claudius Templesmith made his final announcement. It was she that kept a level enough head to save us both.

_Peeta, stop that. Put the knife down._

_ Maybe when you point that arrow someplace besides my face I'll be more inclined to oblige._

_ Peeta, you're not going to kill me._

_ Yeah? So you think I'll be that easy to kill? Thresh taught me a few things you know, probably more than that little girl—_

Then the whole world had been alive with pain. Katniss had shot an arrow into my leg, right in the middle of my thigh. I would come to learn that it wasn't a misfire. It was a warning shot. She'd had a plan, and she needed me to stop panicking and listen to her.

_Peeta, you aren't going to kill me. We're going to end these Games on our own terms, do you understand?_

That's when she held out the berries.

"Katniss' little stunt in the arena changed everything. It was not a victory, it was open defiance. For months after your Games, there was talk of rebellion throughout the Districts. If two sixteen year olds from Twelve, of all places, could beat President Snow at his own Games, then what was keeping them from overthrowing the Capitol?"

At these words I look around, worried we might be overheard. We're almost in the Seam now, our feet acting entirely of their own accord. "I never realized that there were more like the man in District Eleven."

Haymitch shakes his head. "The whole country was up in arms. There might have been a war outright if it hadn't been for the Quarter Quell."

Unwittingly, I shudder. Katniss and I's first year of mentoring had been one of the most gruesome Games ever. Instead of sending in just one boy and girl into the arena from every District, the Capitol held separate Reapings for each age group, picking one child per group in each District. Eighty-three kids died in the arena that year, more than enough to kill any rebellion and reestablish Snow's complete dominance.

We're almost to Victor's Village, meaning our conversation is coming to a close. While we have yet to confirm that the Capitol has bugged the Victor's houses and the area surrounding them, we don't wish to test the theory with such an incendiary topic. "Now the Capitol itself is angry, and once again, everyone is turning to you. You and Katniss were the last to defy Snow and live to tell the tale. The Capitol wants you to be utterly submissive, and the Districts want you to be their revolutionaries. If you play this right, everything could change. Everything."

I stop, and look Haymitch in the eye. There is something there, a mix of defiance and desperation. He's tired. He's tired of the Games, to point that he would do anything to bring them to an end. He has the look of a man who has nothing to lose.

But unfortunately, I do.

"I can't, Haymitch. I can't risk my family."

His face hardens immediately and he lets out a harsh laugh. "Of course. You're a family man now. Just tell me, how long do you think that family will last once the kids reach Reaping age? The twins might be spared, but Julian will certainly be playing the sacrificial first-born. And that's only if you continue to play your part perfectly. Will they let him grow up, do you think, or will your kid be thrown into the arena the second his name enters the Reaping bowl?" Haymitch turns his heel, walking back towards the Seam, probably to the Hob to buy more alcohol. Not even looking over his shoulder, he calls, "Think about it Wonderboy. I'm sure you'll know what to do."

I pause for only a moment before sprinting in the other direction, towards Katniss, towards home. My bum leg feels weak, a side-effect of the arrow that saved my life, but that only makes me run faster. I weave my way through the empty houses in the outskirts, until finally I see my own home. Bright, clean, and beautiful, especially now with the woman I love sitting on the front porch with Prim and our children. My pace slows, but just enough that I can shout her name.

"Katniss!"

Her head turns, her face turning up into one of her rare smiles, and she runs towards me as well. We collide in a wave of passion and relief. I kiss her on the mouth, and she kisses back with the fire she reserves for the times when I come back from the Capitol. "Peeta," she moans, and I can only kiss her harder, love her more. She is everything. She and my children are everything.

"Daddy!" Isabelle cries from Prim's lap. "Daddy, Daddy!"

I let Katniss go, giving her a final, gentle kiss on the forehead. "We need to talk later," I whisper, before running up to the porch. Julian, five years old now, is the first to reach me. I scoop him up by his armpits and throw him into the air, catching him just before he hits the ground again. He laughs maniacally. At first glance, he looks just like Katniss, with dark hair and Seam coloring, but upon closer inspection, he face is entirely mine. Wide nose and lips, a square jaw, and a ready smile, this boy is everything I could have been as a child, minus the bruises my mother's hand left on me.

"Dad, what did you get me? Dad, I know you got me something. What did you get me?" His words come at a rapid-fire pace, full of childish excitement. I put him down gently.

"Calm down, Jay, you'll get your gift in a few minutes. For now let me see your sisters." As if on cue, Aria comes toddling over, followed closely by Isabelle, jumping boldly from her Auntie Prim's lap. A chorus of "Daddy"s greets me as I crouch down, giving each of them a wet, sloppy kiss on the cheek. Their pale blonde hair is done up in identical pigtails, and their grey Seam eyes are bright with joy. It's painful each time I leave for the Capitol, but their faces when I come back are almost worth the time away. I scoop them up easily, one in each arm, and their high-pitched giggles send a wave of euphoria through me. I am home.

"It's good to see you, Peeta," Prim says. "I hope that your trip was pleasant?"

Her words are well-chosen, general enough that no one listening in could decipher her true meaning. Unlike Katniss, who still has the occasional outburst, Prim practically grew up under Capitol surveillance. She knows how to choose her words carefully. She is not asking me about the trip, she is asking me about the Games.

"The train ride always makes me a bit uncomfortable, actually. I don't like enclosed spaces. I'm glad to be back in the open air."

Prim smiles. She wears plain garments, and her hands are calloused. She is still pretty, but she is no longer the waif of a girl that Katniss volunteered to save. The years have changed her, made her stronger. A few months ago she married Rory Hawthorne and moved back into the Seam. But sometimes, with that smile, I see the girl that I met years ago, staring unabashedly at the cakes that I had designed. The girl who, unaccompanied by her sister, snuck into the store to ask about them.

_Excuse me, but do you know who made those cakes?_

This was a few months before her father died, when I didn't know anything about Katniss and couldn't tell Prim from one of the little Merchant girls that had sweets whenever they wanted.

_Which ones?_

_ The big ones. The ones with the red and yellow flowers on them._

_ Those? I made them. Why, is your birthday coming up?_

Her face turned bright red. At the time I thought it was my directness that embarrassed her. Little did I know that she couldn't afford such an extravagance even in her dizziest day-dreams.

_No. I just...they're so pretty, and I wanted to know._

Now Prim has cake every birthday, whether she wants one or not. She has become the sister I never thought I wanted, a conspirator and confidant. She knows my feelings about Katniss, the Games, and the Capitol. And she's smart enough to understand that something big is happening. Something dangerous and, for the most part, uncontrollable.

"Well, we're glad to have you back. Katniss was a wreck without you. I'll leave you alone so you can catch up, but make sure you come around for dinner sometime this week, okay?"

I smile and nod. From the corner of my eye I see Katniss ascending the porch steps, pulling Julian close to her side. "Okay."

The next few hours are a whirlwind. I give the children their souvenirs from the Capitol (for Jay, a toy bow and arrow, for the twins, some finger-paints to play with) and after a hearty dinner of fresh game and berries, we put the children to bed. It is only after Julian has finally drifted off that I can share news of the interview with Katniss. To say she didn't take it well would be more than a bit of an understatement.

"They want to interview us! Again? Haven't they done enough without dropping in on our lives at every available opportunity?" Katniss is seething. I know how she feels, but I can control myself better than she can. Years of going to the Capitol alone have made me better at keeping my emotions in check.

"Yes, and they're coming tomorrow. Mr. Heavensbee also said they will want to film the kids as well."

Katniss' eyes narrow into a glare. "Absolutely not. I will not have our family paraded around like some sort of show for the entertainment of those Capitol freaks! We are not their toys, Peeta, to be picked up and put down when the Games are finished. We are more than that!"

I try to take Katniss' hands in my own, but she swats them away. I sigh, running my hands through my hair. "I know this is short notice, but the camera crews are going to be here tomorrow, whether we like it or not, and one way or another they're going to get their story. We might as well cooperate with them. It will make the whole thing a lot less painful."

I can see by the look of helplessness in her eye that Katniss knows I am right, but that does nothing to quell her anger. "Why now, though? Why now, when they haven't come to Twelve to interview us since before the twins were born?"

I take Katniss' hand in mine, and this time she doesn't pull away. "Let's go for a walk."

We walk in silence, the darkness crowding in on us as we make our way to the Meadow in the Seam. I feel Katniss relaxing next to me. She always gets anxious if she spends too much time indoors. When we reach the Meadow, we sit down, my arm wrapped around her shoulders. It is now, surrounded by all of this beauty, that I tell her about Haymitch's theory.

"The Games didn't go well for the Capitol this year. They were too quick, and the viewers feel as if they've been cheated. The Gamemakers need a distraction so there isn't some sort of riot. That's where we come in."

I can hardly tell if Katniss is listening to me. Her face is turned up to the sky, her eyes are closed. Some hair has come loose from her braid and has been picked up by the soft breeze. Twelve years later, she looks nothing like the Capitol's girl on fire. In this moment, she doesn't look incendiary. She looks content.

But then tears begin to run down her face, and she begins to sob. "When are they going to leave us alone, Peeta? I could love you, we could be happy, if they'd just leave us alone."

I pull her in closer, pressing her to my heart, pounding against my ribcage. "They won't, Katniss. At least, not as long as the Hunger Games exist, and we are Victors."

She stifles a sob. "So never."

Haymitch's words come back to me then, unbidden.

_You and Katniss were the last to defy Snow and live to tell the tale. The Capitol wants you to be utterly submissive, and the Districts want you to be their revolutionaries._ _If you play this right, everything could change. Everything._

I shake my head, clearing out the pipe-dreams of rebellion. It would never work, we will always be under the Capitol's watchful eye. There's no way a few words could change that. "Never," I repeat softly.

We stay there for a few more minutes, then make our way back to Victor's Village. That night, while Katniss fights her nightmares in my arms, I remain awake, my thoughts churning. Rebellion. It's such an ugly word, and even thinking it is dangerous. But how much more dangerous could it be than the life I already live? Snow keeps careful watch of everything I do. One wrong move and my family is done. Would it be better to fight to rid myself and the Districts of the Capitol, or to continue in such perilous circumstances? As I drift to sleep, Haymitch's words echo in my head.

_If you play this right, everything could change. Everything._

I wake up alone. I panic for a second, until I realize that Katniss is probably with her prep team, getting ready for the interview. My own prep team converges on me the second I leave the room, chastising me for sleeping in so late. Minnie, a girl with tattoos covering every inch of her arms and neck, sends me right back into the shower to wash the "District Twelve filth" out of my pores. By the time they have finished with me, the camera crew has already set up in the living room, and I have yet to see Katniss or the kids.

The sight of them sends my heart plummeting into my stomach. They are all there, clean and better dressed than I've ever seen them, but they are now the Capitol's family, not mine. Julian is dressed like I am, black pants and a red button-up shirt that he tugs the collar of every two or three seconds. His hair is brushed for once, and though he's trying to look smart and brave, I can see his discomfort. He has done this before of course, but not that he can remember. Isabelle and Aria stand straight as pins, their pigtails taken out and brushed smooth. They wear identical red dresses, something they'd never do in real life, and their faces are twisted in fear and confusion. They have never seen a camera crew before.

Katniss leans down to pick them up, giving them some semblance of comfort. She is dressed in one of Cinna's creations, a flowing red cocktail dress that hugs her figure perfectly. They are obviously still playing up the fire theme. Julian is ushered to her side by one of the directors. He trips on one of the cords and falls to the ground, catching himself with his hands.

_Will they let him grow up, do you think, or will your kid be thrown into the arena the second his name enters the Reaping bowl?_

"Peeta," says one of the camera operators, "we need you over there by Katniss."

But Katniss isn't there. The woman I love has been replaced by the girl I pretended to love in the arena, the girl who just wants to survive the Games. My children are not mine, but the Capitol's, acting like they're supposed to act, pretending to be brave in the face of the strange people who came to take their pictures. Katniss was wrong last night—we are their toys. I look to my wife, my daughters in her arms, my son at her hip, and I wish desperately that we weren't some Capitol-contrived imitation of a family. That we weren't pieces in their Games.

_Think about it Wonderboy. I'm sure you'll know what to do._

I do know what to do. I've known for years. As I make my way over to Katniss, fear races through my veins. There is no going back after this. There is no way to undo the revolution I am about to set in motion. She'll hate me for it (but maybe, eventually, she'll love me for it too).

The cameras turn on, and the interview begins. They arranged us on the couch so that Katniss and I are on opposite ends, with Julian and Isabelle sandwiched between us and Aria on my lap. The interviewer, a young protegee of Caesar Flickerman, begins with lighter questions and builds up to the one the audience truly wants to hear. As we get closer, I stroke Aria's hair for comfort.

"So, Peeta, this years Games just seemed to fly by, didn't they? As a Mentor, what did you think of the Head Gamemaker's strategy this year?"

The correct answer, the one the Capitol wants, is on my tongue. I have to choke it back before I can make my reply. "I don't know that this year's strategy was any different than last year's strategy." Everyone in the room snaps their head in my direction. I can feel their eyes on me as I continue. "I mean, the fact that the Games were quicker this year doesn't make any difference, really. After all, murder is murder."

_Author's Note: So this is a sequel-ish thing to my other Hunger Games fic, A Game of Hearts: The Cave, which you can go read if you need some context for this one. I really enjoyed writing this one, so if you enjoyed reading it, be sure to tell me!_


End file.
